


Pineapple Juice

by runningfromexplosions



Category: Fruit Play
Genre: Other, Praise Kink, here you go you thirstmonsters, immi, still want pineapple after this?, succ, the filthiest thing I've ever written, weird fruitman biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:12:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningfromexplosions/pseuds/runningfromexplosions
Summary: The reader encounters a sexy pineapple man and things happen. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)





	Pineapple Juice

Pineapple Juice  
(Here you go, you thirsty fucks).

 

You awaken to find yourself on a bed of lush green. You're honestly a bit dizzy and your memory is hazy. Were you drinking? Whatever trouble did you get yourself into this time? Quite a lot, obviously, since you don't know where you are.

There are leaves everywhere, you notice. Huge leaves, like palm leaves but even larger. Everything you see is green, except for that...blob. You rub your eyes. Yes, that's better. The blob is now a figure. He (?) is standing with his back to you so that his gold and bronze striped cape conceals most of him, with the exception of his bright yellow hair and tall hat.

You get to your feet somewhat unsteadily. The leaves beneath you rustle, and the figure whips around. His eyes grow wide with intrigue and...is that anger?

“Who goes there!?” He thunders. You see now that he has a scepter, because he has it pointed at you. He approaches you slowly, his boots crunching the leaves beneath his feet. He is….definitely not unattractive. His well-defined jaw is clenched in focus. Those cheekbones are so sharp, they could slice fruit (okay, now you're just being silly). And his arms. Whoooo boy. He must work out or something. The muscles are so toned, it’s like Michelangelo painted them (it occurs to you that Michelangelo was probably a bit gay). But enough of this flowery nonsense. He’s…

Whoops. You let that word slip right out. Dammit. Should have kept your mouth shut.

“...Hot?” he repeats. “Why yes, it is quite hot. Or is it just me?” he giggles. The giggling takes the intimidating edge off him, a little. He’s closer to you now. A scepter’s length away, actually. Close enough for you to smell him. Oh, no, he doesn't stink, heavens no. He smells like sweet pineapple cake.

“You...think I’m hot, too, don’t you?” He whispers. He holds his scepter across your throat and leans in. His eyes bore into you, and you realize that he can read your expression all too well.

“What’s your name?” He asks. You tell him.

“That's it? Not a fruit or vegetable?” He pauses. “We don't have any rules about...your kind.”

….

“Human? Is that what you call yourself? Interesting. I am the great fruit, Immi Ananas. Since you're not breaking any of the laws of the Fruit Basket, I suppose it's alright for you to stay here for a while.”

You thank him.

“Oh, but it is my pleasure,” he says. “Now, I’m not busy at all at the moment. No. Being busy is for Red Apple. I am a king, so I can laze about.”

“Well,” Immi admits, “I’m almost a king.”

You comment on his cape and hat.

“I look kingly?” He brightens. Flattery definitely works on this one, you note. He does that giggle again. He is losing his commanding edge, fast. He looks at the ground, smiling shyly.

“To be honest,” he says, “I wouldn't mind having someone like you rule over me. If you know what I mean.” His eyes (pupils blown, dark) flit up to meet yours, and, oh yes, you know exactly what he means.

….

“Yes, I have a private place in mind. Follow me, special guest.” He winks.

Immi leads you to...well, it looks like a cave with a curtain of leaves. He parts the curtain with his scepter. Behind the curtain, however, there is not a cave, but a wooden door. Immi gestures for you to open the door and let yourself in.

The interior is fairly simple, with a wooden floor and a couple of circular windows that let natural light through. There are a few pictures on the wall (mostly of Immi himself), in addition to some other paraphernalia, but the main attraction (in your opinion, because priorities) is the canopied bed.

“I know it doesn't look like a palace at all,” Immi admits. You tell him that you don't mind.

“You still think I’m awesome?”

….

“Oh,” he gasps. Your flattery has really got to him now. Before either of you can think anything more, your hand is on his chest and his muscular arms have pulled you into an embrace. Your free hand cups the side of his face, and he tilts his head against your touch. You both lean in, knowing what comes next.

You kiss, but it is short and soft. A taste test.

“Wow,” Immi says, “I’ve never kissed a human before.” His cheeks are tinted with yellow, not the red common to humans.

To your surprise, Immi sweeps you off your feet. He carries you to his bed bridal-style (though you are no bride), and lays you on the mattress. You notice a quilt at the end of the bed with patterns of fruits stitched into it. You settle into the soft mattress while Immi removes his boots, cape, and hat.

Immi rolls onto the bed and positions himself on his side. He looks at you longingly, and you move your body to mirror him. He gives you a mischievous look, then moves again to straddle you. His face is over yours now; he looks at you intensely.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say.

Immi lunges in to meet your lips. This time he uses more pressure, and it is clear to you that he is feeling needy. You gladly deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You are not surprised when he tastes slightly of pineapple.

Immi sighs contentedly and reaches around the back of your head to pull you in closer. You grab a fistful of his wild hair to direct him. His hair looked coarse, but it is softer than you imagined.

Soon you break apart, gasping for breath. Immi takes this chance to remove his bronze vest. His chest matches his arms, muscular and perfectly toned.

Immi grips your shoulders and flips himself onto his back so you are now on top of him. He releases you and spreads his veiny arms to either side in an inviting pose. You stroke along his neck down to his chest. When you brush over a nipple, he gasps. You plant another kiss on his lips, and then a kiss on his jaw.

“Tell me how good I am,” he begs. You laud him with compliments, making him feel like royalty. Immi moans.

“Yes, I am so great, and you, you are wonderful…handsome….gorgeous...” He rambles. Your fingers reach the top of his pants.

“Take them off,” says Immi, voice strained with lust. “Suck me.”

You remove his pants with some difficulty, as his erect cock strains against the fabric. He gasps when the pants have been removed and his large, veiny member is set free. You lick the shaft and he shudders. You then take the end into your mouth and gradually inch more of it in.

You expect a bitter taste when he comes, but are pleasantly surprised when your mouth fills with pineapple smoothie. This you swallow easily.

When you remove yourself, he is breathing heavily, and his skin is covered in a pineapple-scented sheen of sweat.

“So,” he pants, “You like pineapple juice, do you?”


End file.
